I am not a stranger to the darkness, though I am unafraid of the light. I am willing to crawl on broken glass, dragging shards through my flesh as I attempt to better myself, fall away will the blight. I can rip these fragments from my skin, gaping wounds, painful holes, I am like the remnants of made confetti, the cut-outs flung to the floor because I am truly ready to breathe, to inhale, exhale, be myself, the darkness can flow aside effluent mess into the drains, instead replaced by purging cleansing rain, I shed tears but they are unseen, melding with the droplets reigned down by a heaven or God who I am unsure even exists. © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved. Photo by Sophie Dale on Unsplash
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